The Ironhand's Daughter

The duck was rising fast, and Abby hurtled down towards it with talons extended.

At the last possible moment the duck saw the bird of prey - and dived fast. For a heartbeat only Sigarni thought Abby had her prey, but then the duck hit the water, diving deep, confusing the hawk. Abby circled and returned to her branch.

The huntress gave a low whistle, summoning Lady back to the bank. The sound of a walking horse came to Sigarni then, and sherose and turned.

The horse was a tall chestnut, and upon it rode a black man, his cheeks, head and shoulders covered in a flowing white burnoose. A cloak of blue-dyed wool hung from his broad shoulders and a curved sword was scabbarded at his waist. He smiled as he saw the mountain woman.

'When hunting duck, it is better for the hawk to take it from below,' he said, swinging down from his saddle.

'We're still learning,' replied Sigarni affably. 'She is wedded to fur now, but it took time - as you said it would, Asmidir.'

The tall man sat down at the water's edge. Lady approached him gingerly, and he stroked her head.

'The eye is healing well. Has it affected her hunting?' Sigarni shook her head. 'And the bird?

Hawks prefer to feed on feather. What is her killing weight?'

'Two pounds two ounces. But she has taken hare at two-four.'

'And what do you feed her?'

'No more than three ounces a day."

The black man nodded. 'Once in a while you should catch her a rat. Nothing better for cleaning a bird's crop than a good rat.'

'Why is that, Asmidir?' asked Sigarni, sitting down beside the man.

'I don't know,' he admitted, with a broad smile. 'My father told me years ago. As you know the hawk swallows its prey - where it can -whole and the carcass is compressed, all the goodness squeezed out of it. It then vomits out the cast, the remnants. There is, I would imagine, something in the rat's pelt or skin that cleans the bird's crop as it exits.' Leaning back on his elbows, he narrowed his eyes and watched the distant hawk.

'How many kills so far?'

'Sixty-eight hares, twenty pigeons and a ferret.'

'You hunt ferret?' asked Asmidir, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

'It was a mistake. The ferret bolted a hare and Abby took the ferret.'

Asmidir chuckled. 'You have done well, Sigarni. I am glad I gave you the hawk.'

'Three times I thought I'd lost her. Always in the forest.'

'You may lose sight of her, child, but she will never lose sight of you. Come back to the castle, and I will prepare you a meal. And you too,' he said, scratching the hound's ears.

'I was told that you were a sorcerer, and that I must beware of you.'

'You should always heed the warnings of dwarves,' he said. 'Or any creature of legend.'

'How did you know it was Ballistar?'

'Because I am a sorcerer, my dear. We are expected to know things like that.'

*

'You always pause at my bear,' said Asmidir, gazing fondly at the silver-haired girl as Sigarni reached out and touched the fur of the beast's belly. It was a huge creature, its paws outstretched, talons bared, mouth open in a silent roar. 'It is wonderful,' she said. 'How is it done?'

'You do not believe it is a spell then?' he asked, smiling.

'No.'

'Well,' he said slowly, rubbing his chin, 'if it is not a spell, then it must be a stuffed bear.

There are craftsmen in my land who work on carcasses, stripping away the inner meat, which can rot, and rebuilding the dead beasts with clay before wrapping them once more in their skins or fur. The results are remarkably lifelike.'

'And this then is a stuffed bear?'

'I did not say that,' he reminded her. 'Come, let us eat.'

Asmidir led her through the hallway and into the main hall. A log fire was burning merrily in the hearth and two servants were laying platters of meat and bread on the table. Both were tall dark-skinned men who worked silently, never once looking at their master or his guest. With the table laid, they silently withdrew.

'Your servants are not friendly,' commented Sigarni.

'They are efficient,' said Asmidir, seating himself at the table and filling a goblet with wine.

'Do they fear you?'

'A little fear is good for a servant.'

'Do they love you?'

'I am not a man easy to love. My servants are content. They are free to leave my service whenever it pleases them so to do; they are not slaves.' He offered Sigarni some wine, but she refused and he poured water into a glazed goblet which he passed to her. They ate in silence, then Asmidir moved to the fireside, beckoning Sigarni to join him.

'Do you have no fear?' the black man asked, as she sat cross-legged before him.

'Of what?' she countered.

'Of life. Of death. Of me.'

'Why would I fear you?'

'Why would you not? When we met last year I was a stranger in your land. Black and fearsome," he said, widening his eyes and mimicking a snarl.

She laughed at him. 'You were never fearsome,' she said. 'Dangerous, yes. But never fearsome.'

'There is a difference?'

'Of course,' she told him, cocking her head to one side. 'I like dangerous men.'

He shook his head. 'You are incorrigible, Sigarni. The body of an angel and the mind of a whore.

Usually that is considered a wonderful combination. That is, if you are contemplating the life of a courtesan, a prostitute or a slut. Is that your ambition?'

Sigarni yawned theatrically. 'I think it is time to go home," she said, rising smoothly.

'Ah, I have offended you,' he said.

'Not at all,' she told him. 'But I expected better of you, Asmidir.'

'You should expect better of yourself, Sigarni. There are dark days looming. A leader is coming - a leader of noble blood. You will probably be called upon in those days to aid him. For you also boast the blood of Gandarin. Men will follow an angel or a saint, they will follow a despot and a villain. But they will follow a whore only to the bedchamber.'

Her face flushed with anger. 'I'll take sermons from a priest - not from a man who was happy to cavort with me throughout the spring and summer, and now seeks to belittle me. I am not some milkmaid or tavern wench. I am Sigarni of the Mountains. What I do is my affair. I used you for pleasure, I admit it freely. You are a fine lover; you have strength and finesse. And you used me.

That made it a balanced transaction, and neither of us was sullied by it. How dare you attempt to shame me?'

'Why would you see it as shame?' he countered. 'I am talking of perceptions - the perceptions of men. You think I look down upon you? I do not. I adore you. For your body andyour mind. Further, I am probably - as much as I am capable of it - a little in love with you. But this is not why I spoke in the way I did.'

'I don't care,' she told him. 'Goodbye.'

Sigarni strode from the room and out past the great bear. A servant pushed open the double doors and she walked down the steps into the courtyard. Lady came bounding towards her. Another servant, a slim dark-eyed young man, was waiting at the foot of the steps with Abby hooded upon his wrist.

Sigarni pulled on her hawking glove.

'You were waiting for me?' she asked the young man. He nodded. 'Why? I am usually here for hours.'

'The master said today would be a short visit,' he explained.

Sigarni untied the braces and slid the hood clear of Abby's eyes. The hawk looked around, them jumped to Sigarni's fist. When the huntress lifted her arm and called out 'Hai!', the hawk took off, heading south.

Sigarni flicked her fingers and Lady moved close to her side, awaiting instructions. 'What is your name?' she asked the servant, noting the sleekness of his skin and the taut muscles beneath his blue silk shirt. He shook his head and moved away from her.